


The Face In The Mirror

by LadyNyoko



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNyoko/pseuds/LadyNyoko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn’t until after Freedom’s Progress that she first gets a look at herself in the mirror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Face In The Mirror

It isn’t until after Freedom’s Progress that she first gets a look at herself in the mirror.

She hasn’t had the time to adjust to anything. She is not dead and she should be. Her team is not at her side and instead she is with strangers she does not trust. Not yet. Maybe someday she can trust them like she had trusted the others, but that day is not today.

She asks the Illusive Man about the others – she is not given a straight answer on any of them and it frustrates her. All she wants is a little familiarity, a face she recognizes amidst the unremarkable masses. In the end, she finds that in Joker. It is a relief to see him, to know that he will have the Normandy under his hands again. (It isn’t the Normandy without Joker.)

They are amidst the stars within the hour, and she takes the time to familiarize herself with the Normandy again. She is bigger now, a little flashier but no less sleek. She comes with plenty of bells and whistles that aren’t strictly necessary but not particularly unwelcome.

The AI is the biggest change, and she can’t blame Joker for being unhappy about it. She isn’t particularly happy about it either, but there isn’t much she can do short of trying to find another ship. And she can’t do that – the Normandy is the closest thing to home she’s found since her rude awakening.

But she is wandering away from her point.

It’s after Freedom’s Progress, after she has her ship back, after she’s talked to her crew and wandered as much as she can stand that she looks in the mirror.

It isn’t intentional, not really. Not in the way most women seek to see their reflections. She’s only settling in for what passes as night in space, showering and brushing her teeth and changing into the pajamas in her cabin that are hers but that she hadn’t bought. (Nothing she’d normally wear, but she can’t afford to be picky right now.)

She’s brushing her teeth when she looks in the mirror and sees someone else staring back.

(No wonder Tali doubted it was her.)

Cerberus had done well enough. Most of the universe would look at her and say “That’s Commander Shepard.”  But that isn’t who she sees in the mirror. It’s her face, but it isn’t _her face_.

The cheekbones have lost some of their definition. The brow has a slight arch that wasn’t there before. The jaw has softened just the slightest bit. The hairline has changed shape slightly, doesn’t hug the temples or sweep above the forehead the way it did before.

It feels like someone has taken the edge from her features, taken sandpaper and softened her up. For a moment she wonders if that was done on purpose; the thought makes her want to vomit. Instead she hopes this was just the best they could do with the body that was delivered to them. There had to have been extensive damage – you don’t come out of a death like that unmarked.

And there are marks right there.

Scars where they tried to knit her skin back together, gaps where there is _flesh_ but it hasn’t quite healed just yet. There is the dim glow of cybernetics that peeks through these gaps, and it is this that finally breaks her.

She spends a good five minutes vomiting into the toilet – thankfully right behind her.

Her hands shake and she isn’t sure whether she should be filled with rage or disgust. The person in the mirror is not her. She can’t accept that it could be. That is not Commander Shepard that stares back at her. It is someone – some _thing_ – else.

To admit that it is her means she must admit that she is not entirely human anymore. They’ve taken her and they’ve twisted her for their own purposes, made her something she is not. She is just another experiment and that thought has her vomiting all over again, shaking from exhaustion so deep she feels it in her bones.

She’s only just woken up and she’s so god damn tired she wishes she could lie down and not have to wake up again.


End file.
